Act of Faith
by sacco13
Summary: A story about Bass and Charlie based on what happened in episode 4 of season 2, both filling in some back story from previous episodes and what else could happen
1. Chapter 1

"Who said you have any choice?", said Monroe.

She flung herself back down on the ground again. Her legs still felt wobbly if she was honest. What she had seen in his eyes she believed this time. It didn't matter what she wanted to do, he wasn't letting her go. Act of faith or no.

Then stood for a moment and then sat down again too. He stared into the remains of the fire, his face fierce now, no sign of the pain and sadness that had been there moments before. Charlie huddled down onto the ground and to her surprise felt herself giving into sleep.

Monroe watched her sleep for a while. Whatever her reaction, he had meant what he said to her, but then again, maybe a sociopath always believes that. He wished he had some whiskey to drown in.

~o0o~

The sun was just coming up when Charlie woke up the next morning. The fire was out and Monroe was nowhere to be seen. The heaviness was gone from her limbs, so she knew the drugs were finally gone from her system. For a few moments, she thought about taking off again, but she realized it was pointless. He would track her down and much as she hated to admit it, she did trust that he would take care of her, at least until they got to Willoughby, and that she would stand a better chance with him if they ran into any trouble. She drifted back to sleep again. When she woke up, she didn't know how much time had passed but the sun was much higher in the sky and still no sign of Monroe. She glanced around the camp and realized that although the wagon was still there, there was no sign of his stuff. She was suddenly worried that he had left her and was shocked that the thought didn't make her happy.

She packed up her stuff and was walking over to the wagon when he suddenly appeared again, none of the emotions of last night were there. Now his face was back to being closed and hard. The sudden relief she felt seeing him made her wince, feeling like it was a betrayal of everything she cared about and the dissonance brought her anger lashing out.

"Good morning Charlie. I'm surprised you didn't take off again."

"What's the point? You would only track me down and catch me again, like I'm some kind of livestock to trade. I wasn't going to give you the satisfaction. You're so sick, you'd probably enjoy it too much. Where were you anyway? Whoring? Torturing small animals?

He tossed her a bag with some food in it. "Thought you might be hungry," he said.

She glanced at the bag in her hands. "Ah, now I get it. Who did you kill to get this?" she sneered.

Charlie knew she had touched a button, but his voice was still controlled. "Charlie, I get that you're angry, but if you don't stop this bullshit, there will be consequences and I'm damn sure you won't like them. " He came striding over to her, too fast, close, his face inches away. She swung her fist into his face, not as hard as she would have liked, but hard enough to make him stumble backwards.

For a second, he could feel the control on his temper slipping. His face was reddened with anger as he slammed her up against the wagon, the boards cutting into her back. His arm was up against her throat, pinning her. Hot. Male. The scent of his skin hit her senses. She struggled pointlessly, trying to push him away. "Take your hands off me, you evil bastard. You're not my dad, or my boss or my commanding office. You are the man who destroyed my family and I owe you fuck all, and certainly never respect or obedience." The words came up of her mouth with such venom, flecks of spit hit his face and she looked into his eyes, almost willing him to hit her. She knew if he lost control completely, he might kill her, but somehow that was still preferable to the realisation that she was glad that he hadn't abandoned her.

"Don't be so fucking childish Charlie. You have, what, a year's experience of fighting a war? I have twenty. Twenty years of war, killing and staying alive. He took a breath and he relaxed a fraction, feeling the soft skin of her throat slide against his arm as she stopped struggling. "I'm not telling you what to do because you're a child, or because I want to control you. I'm telling you because you're so fucking green and I am trying to make sure you don't get yourself or me killed. I might be a monster, or whatever creative insult of the day you've picked that makes this all easier for you to bear, but please Charlie, I'm just trying to keep you alive. She saw the fury drain from his eyes.

"Fine," she said, realizing that he was probably right, but she was just so tired of being told what to do, especially by him. He eased his arm away from her throat and she squirmed out from underneath and stalked to the front of the wagon and swung herself up. "Let's get go. The quicker we get back to Willoughby, the quicker I'll be done with you."

Monroe shook his head, feeling a bit out of his depth; out of his depth because he had no idea how to deal with this girl that he could crush with his bare hands. The problem was that she seemed to have no fear and he just didn't remember the last time he had to deal with someone who wasn't afraid of him. Sighing, he climbed up into the wagon and flicked the reins. The wagon shuddered into motion.

For an hour, they didn't speak. They just plodded through the deserted countryside, with the sound of nothing but the sound of birds and hooves. Charlie stole a glance at Monroe. He stared ahead, a million miles away, the planes of his face hard and set. His long calloused fingers flicked the reins. A sudden image of his arm, hard and masculine, against her throat, jumped into her mind and the thought of how those hands might feel on her skin shocked her. Horrified, she stared straight ahead, eyes fixed, trying to push the images out of her mind.

Monroe sensed Charlie's movement and looked over at her. God, she looked so young sometimes and for a moment his heart ached for the teenager she had never had the chance to be. He knew he had a large part in taking that away from her. And here she was, definitely not a kid anymore and taking her revenge on him every chance she got. Even though she got under his skin like nobody he could remember, each insult, each word of abuse she spat, felt to him like a twisted kind of blessing. As if each blow he took from her forgave one of his long-forgotten sins.

~o0o~

_Willoughby 10 miles_

"So, General Twenty Fucking Years Experience, what's the plan?" Charlie spat. Despite himself, Monroe laughed.

"I have no idea what to expect", he said. "And, there's no one around. It's too quiet and that worries me. I have a bad feeling about it. I think we should ditch the wagon and walk from here."

Charlie nodded and started to climb out of the wagon. "What, no arguments?" said Monroe, surprised again. "Nope", she said. "In this case, I agree. Just because you're a psycho doesn't mean you're wrong all the time."

They let the horses go and set off, well away from the road. The heat of the afternoon was much more bearable now that they were past the worst of the summer, so the walking was easy, but they walked in tense, uneasy silence, scanning constantly. Suddenly Monroe grabbed Charlie's arm and pulled her down, crouching into the grass. He pointed to a group of men in the distance.

"They look too clean to be good news. They look like they are wearing uniforms," said Charlie.

They exchanged a look. "I'm guessing we're already too late to warn Miles and Rachel", Monroe said.

~o0o~

Charlie and Monroe stood in the shadow between two buildings, out of sight. Monroe was close enough to her that she could feel his breath on her neck. She squelched an impulse to lean back into him. What was wrong with her? He was old enough to be her father, he was still a monster and right now, they were in danger of being seen and probably killed and this is what she's thinking about?

Monroe put a hand on her shoulder. "There – I see him. Coming right towards us."

Charlie was relieved to see that Miles was alone. Her mom would probably have started yelling and brought the soldiers down on their heads. She slid out of the shadows into Miles's line of sight and stood, motionless but smiling, waiting for him to see her.

"Charlie," he whispered, when he saw her. The smile broke even further across her face. She was surprised how unfamiliar the smile felt. Miles closed the space between them and pulled her into his arms. He hugged her so tightly, she could barely breathe. "You're okay. Thank God you're okay. Let me look at you." Miles pushed her back to get a better look and was shocked by her appearance. What must she have been going through to look like that?

"I am fine Miles, but before you say anything else, you need to know I'm not alone. I came with Monroe."

Miles looked around, trying to see Monroe. "Bass is here? "I don't understand. How did you end up with Bass?" Monroe stepped out of the shadows; just enough so Miles could see him, but still saying well hidden from anyone on the street.

"There's a bounty on me. They are saying I dropped the ICBMs," said Monroe. Charlie heard the bitterness in his voice. She hated that she now knew him well enough to know that while he didn't shy away from his responsibility for all the awful things he had done, it was eating at him that he was being blamed for something that he hadn't. Miles and Monroe exchanged a look. Charlie saw that it was heavy with layers of meaning for both of them, but she had no idea if that was good or bad.

"We need to get you both inside, before anybody sees you," Miles said. "Follow me and stay close". Charlie was relieved. She hadn't been sure how Miles was going to react, but as always, he was the pragmatist. As much as she didn't want to admit it, Monroe had been right. No matter how much they all had reason to hate him, they were all on the same side, at least for now. Charlie and Bass followed Miles back to a house. As they went inside and Miles closed the door behind them, the tension she hadn't even realized was there started to drain from Charlie's body and she relaxed a little for the first time in months.

"In here", Miles said, leading them into the kitchen. Monroe and Charlie sat down at the table and Miles plunked some glasses of something down in front of them. Charlie had no idea what it was, but it burned her throat in just the right way. Monroe pulled the bounty posters out of his pocket and threw them down on the table. Miles's face paled when he saw the one for Rachel.

"One of the Patriots just tried to kill her". A friend she'd known since she was a kid." Miles said bleakly. "He tried to kill her even though he said they wanted her alive. What I don't know is what they're planning to do with her if they already know who she is."

"Is mom okay?" asked Charlie, dread pooling in her stomach.

"Yes, but the guy she killed, no so much. Rachel buried him in the hole underneath the bar that he'd just dug for her." Relief flooded through Charlie as they all laughed, despite how gruesome the punch line was.

"So, what do you know about the Patriots, Miles?" asked Monroe. Suddenly, they all heard a door slam and Rachel's voice. "What is going on here", she demanded and she burst into the room. Charlie, Miles and Monroe had all stood up as Rachel stormed in. For a moment she didn't see Monroe, but when he emerged from the shadows, his face defiant, she screamed. "What the hell is he doing here?" and pointed a shotgun at Monroe's face.

Miles moved, but Charlie got there first, jumping in between Monroe and Rachel. Monroe's face was granite, but his eyes betrayed the tiniest surprise at Charlie's reaction. He would have expected her to ask if she could pull the trigger.

"Mom, no," Charlie said, holding her hands up. "Put the gun down. You have to listen first". Rachel looked at Monroe over Charlie's shoulder.

"Show her the posters", said Monroe. Miles picked up the posters and held them up so Rachel could see them. She glanced down, but didn't lower the gun.

"Mom, please put the gun down," Charlie said, taking half a step closer. "We came here to warn you about the Patriots, but we were too late. We need to work together, not kill each other." A few long seconds passed.

"Fine, Rachel said, lowering the gun at last, eyes still fixed on Monroe. "I will listen, but I'd better hear a good story, because I may have failed the last time I tried to kill you Bass, but I won't fail if I try again".

~o0o~

Later than night, Miles poured the last of the whisky from the bottle and slugged it down. Only Charlie, Miles and Monroe were left in the kitchen. Everyone else was long gone to bed tired from speculating what the Patriots might be planning. "It's late," said Miles. "We should figure out where you are going to sleep", he said.

Charlie looked at Monroe, shaking her head. "Bass, we can't stay here. The only reason the Patriots are here already is because they knew this is where mom grew up. They came here ooking for her. If they find you as well, it's all over. We have to leave."

The tiniest smile lifted the corner of Monroe's mouth, when he heard her call him Bass.

"I don't care how dangerous it is," Miles snapped back at her, "you are not going anywhere with Bass. You have to stay here with us".

"Charlie, he's right. You should stay here with Miles and your mom. Get some rest and decent food. It is going to be tough without you, but I think I can look after myself," Monroe said. He had meant it as a good-natured tease, but he knew he got the tone completely wrong when he saw the look on her face. She jumped up, furious.

"What, I should stay here with them, waiting to be taken in case they need some kind of leverage so they can get mom or Miles to do what whatever the hell they want while the torture me? Oh, wait, I forgot. You invented that move," she said, practically spitting in Monroe's face.

"And you", she said, spinning around to look at Miles, "when will you stop treating me like fragile little girl to be protected from harm? It's so damn patronizing. Most of the time these days, it seems like I am the fucking harm."

Miles and Monroe exchanged a look and then Miles rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. "Fine," he said to Monroe, "maybe she has a point, but that doesn't mean I have to like it, and if she gets so much as a scratch because of you…"

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Miles, are you listening to yourself? I have been alone with him for the last three weeks and he's saved my life." The memory of waking up beside Bass after the drugs slid into her mind. She had said some vicious things to him that night, and at the time she meant them all, despite the fact that he had probably just saved her life, or at least saved her from something possibly worse than dying. She looked over at Monroe and he smiled that almost invisible smirk of his, that once made her want to punch him, but now... She hated that her hate was wavering and she couldn't explain why.

"And, it might come as a shock to you," she said, carefully not looking at Monroe for fear of letting him see what might be on her face, "that he's been the perfect gentleman the whole time".

Miles glared at Monroe, who returned the glare with a grin and put up his hands in surrender. "Would someone care to tell me how Bass saved your life?"

~o0o~

At the door, Charlie hugged Miles, inhaling his familiar scent that by now was the closest thing to safe she knew. Finally, she pulled away from him. "Tell Mom I'll be okay and that I'm sorry I left without saying goodbye."

Miles took hold of her hands. "She'll come around Charlie. I hate this as much as she does," he said, looking over to Monroe, "but I know this makes sense. We can't do much from inside the walls. Whatever intel you gather will help. I'll see you both in a few weeks.

Charlie was surprised when Miles went over to hug Monroe. You take care of her Bass, or I'll kill you myself". Charlie felt tears prick her eyes and swallowed it down hard. The tired and worn look on Miles's face almost broke her heart. She ached to stay longer, to feel she was back with family, loved.

"Charlie," said Monroe softly, "we should go." He touched her shoulder as the "we" twisted uncomfortably in Charlie's stomach. When did we become a "we", she thought.

She kissed Miles's cheek and then stepped out into the dark with Monroe. They walked silently through the almost deserted, dark streets. As they were about to turn around the corner into the most open and most dangerous part of their route, Monroe spun around, grabbed Charlie and pushed her hard into the wall, back into the shadows. Her face was crushed against his chest as he leaned down and whispered, his breath hot in her ear. "Patriots. Don't move". Fear made her senses sharp and she heard Monroe's heart beating fast, surprising her because she'd never known him show emotion in the face of danger. At the bar after those men drugged her, when he burst in, he he'd looked like a machine, just scything them all down, barely even breaking a sweat. She couldn't see anything, but then she heard footsteps and her own heart beating faster. For a moment the steps came closer, and then finally quieter as they faded into nothing. She exhaled raggedly, not even realizing she'd been holding her breath.

"They're gone", Monroe said releasing quickly, all too aware of their proximity. He didn't trust himself not to react to the feel of her body pressed against his. "Now, let's get to somewhere safe for the night," he said, setting off into the dark, trying to squash the feeling before it took root.

~o0o~

They walked for a long time, deep into the countryside, looking for a safe place to stop for the night and stopped near a clump of trees with some good scrub for extra cover.

"I think this is as good as we're going to get Charlie. Sorry, it's not the bed with soft sheets, with Miles and your mom nearby that you could have had. And, we're not going to able to have a fire either."

"I get it Monroe. It's okay. I knew what I was getting into. I'm tough", she said.

Monroe looked at her, barely visible in the bit of moonlight they had, wondering what had changed. Why she had dropped the teenage-style tantrums? Why was she suddenly the good little soldier? He remembered her reaction to Miles telling her she had to stay. That was the moment things changed, he realised. One minute she's telling him how much she hates him and the next, she's calling him Bass. It wasn't that she had started to forgive him, or even started to understand him. No, she was probably just rebelling against Miles and Rachel. He sighed, feeling more disappointed than he cared to admit.

"What?" Charlie asked. Monroe didn't reply. "I mean what's with the big sigh?"

"Nothing important. I was just wondering why you called me Bass back there." He wished the question unsaid immediately. He hated how needy it sounded.

"I can go back to psychopathic monster or fuckwit dick for brains if you like. It's nothing to me either way."

Monroe laughed; a real laugh that felt so alien to him. How many months since anyone really made him laugh? "No, I liked it. Bass is good."

"No he isn't. Bass is many things, but none of them good", she retorted, wishing she hadn't. It sounded better in her head, way too suggestive when it came out of her mouth.

"You're wrong about that Charlie – there are things I'm very good at and not all of them involve killing people.

Even though she couldn't see his face, she imagined there was a suggestively raised eyebrow. Ugh.

"Oh God, you're disgusting. Just go to sleep," she said as coldly as she could manage, but she still had to suppress a grin. Why did it sometimes feel so easy with him, like she'd known him for years? When she wasn't fantasizing about slitting his throat, or trying to make herself stop remembering what it felt like to feel her body crushed against his chest, she had to admit that she got be herself around him; just Charlie, not Rachel's daughter, or Miles's niece. A sudden pain stole into her heart when she remembered that the only time she had ever felt like that before was when she spent time with Danny. She looked across at Monroe, and as he leant back onto the ground and closed his eyes, she realized he was trusting her to take the first watch, that he now trusted her not to try to kill him as he slept. How the hell did this happen?

Monroe closed his eyes. At first when she flung insults at him, he had welcomed it, like a penance, taken pleasure in it even, but now it just felt painful, exhausting. She was half his age, she was Miles's niece, and she had a grudge against him a mile long, and he had just slipped into banter with her, like he was human again for the first time in years. The feeling of being out of his depth stirred again. You're getting soft, Monroe, he thought, time to stay focused.

~o0o~

"Charlie, wake up. We have company."

Charlie's eyes opened and she saw Monroe crouching over her, with a finger over his lips. She nodded and started to get up quietly, staying low, and hidden. Still the good little soldier then, Monroe noted with a note of pride that he couldn't explain.

"Patriots?" she whispered in his ear. He willed his brain to ignore the feel of her hair brushing against his cheek. "I can't tell. Too far away."

Charlie peered through the trees and saw three men coming straight towards them, although they were just chatting, so she didn't think they had been tracked down. This was just an annoying crossing of paths with strangers.

"Not Patriots," Monroe concluded. "Charlie, will you trust me?" Charlie nodded. "I didn't kill you while slept, did I? But, I don't think I'm going to like this, am I?" Monroe shook his head.

Monroe grabbed Charlie by the hair and pulled her stumbling to her feet. He dragged her out from behind the trees where the men could see him. His body had relaxed into a swagger. "Calm down, you stupid little bitch, or I'll slit your throat," he yelled at her. The three men were close enough to see and hear the little drama.

"Morning Gentleman", he said, in completely unrecognizable accent. Charlie struggled to get away from him, but he hit her across the face hard and she lost her footing and fell down at his feet, still shocked from the blow.

One of the men had a shotgun that he pointed at Monroe, and the other two pulled knives from their belts. There was no sign that they recognized Monroe. Despite the weapons, Monroe stood completely relaxed. "Can I interest you in a little business?" he said. "This lovely young lady is in need of a new home and I'm willing to trade."

"Please don't do this to me," Charlie whimpered. Monroe laughed and grabbed her hair again and pulled her to her feet and as he did, he pulled her close to him and draped an arm around her neck. The man with the knife stepped forward to Charlie and grabbed her chin in his hand to take a closer look at her face. "She's purty. How old is she?" he said grinning, with teeth gapped and rotting.

"Eighteen and very good company if you know what I mean." Charlie felt Monroe's hand slip off her shoulder and slide down her back. He felt him tuck a small knife into the waistband of her jeans.

Rotting Teeth suddenly pulled Charlie towards him, and held up a knife to her throat and she could smell the stench of his breath. "How about we just take her instead", he said with a snigger. Monroe took a step towards Rotting Teeth, but the man with the gun raised it towards Monroe's head so he stepped back, holding up his hands. "Look, I don't want any trouble, just some food, maybe a knife…"

"No deal," Rotting Teeth said. "So, why don't you just git on your way so nobody gets hurt, while we all get acquainted with your young miss."

"Fine. You win." said Monroe, glancing at Charlie, and nodding almost imperceptibly at her. Charlie whined a little, and tried to squirm away from Rotting Teeth, while she gently slid the knife from her waistband into her hand.

"Okay Gentlemen. I hope you have as much fun with her as I did. Goodbye y'all". Suddenly a knife appeared in Monroe's hand and by the time he had thrown it deep into the chest of the man with the gun, Charlie had stomped down on Rotting Teeth's foot, twisted around, and jammed her blade into his throat. Monroe was already over to the last man by the time he'd had a chance to react, and Monroe rammed his fist into the man's face. He toppled heavily to the ground and Monroe pinned him with this foot by the throat. Charlie couldn't help being perversely impressed by Monroe in full slaughter mode. He was almost balletic.

"Please don't kill me," the man said. "Take anything you want," his voice little more than a whimper.

Monroe showed him the bounty poster of Rachel. "If you tell me what you know about this woman, I'll let you live". The man looked at the poster. "That's the woman that them Patriots want, aint it?. I don't know nothing about her though."

"Where are you from?"

"From Hectorville, a few miles east o' here", he said.

"And what do you know about the Patriots?" demanded Charlie.

"Patriots? Not much, but I believe they're sayin' want to bring back the United States but I don't know about that. There's not much interest in these parts.

Monroe looked at Charlie and Charlie nodded and turned away. Monroe pulled the man to his feet, and as he did, whipped his arm around and slit his throat. The man dropped like a stone. Charlie didn't even look back as she went through the pockets of Rotting Teeth. Monroe watched her, wondering what she was thinking. He had expected another tirade about how much of a monster he was to kill the last one, so she had surprised him when she walked away.

Charlie found nothing much useful in the pockets of the dead men, but she wasn't sure what she was expecting anyway. The fact that she had just killed a man was not lost on her, since the sight of his blood on her clothes turned her stomach and her hands were still shaky and here body was awash with adrenaline. However, she knew the old Charlie would have tried to get Bass to let the last guy go, but she knew he and the others would probably have raped her, killed her and thrown her body by the roadside like trash, so she wasn't sorry at all.

A few minutes later, they had stripped the bodies of all the valuables and food and were on their way.

"Did you have to hit me so fucking hard, Bass? I know you take great pleasure in handing out punishment, but even so." Charlie massaged her swollen cheek tenderly.

"Sorry. But I had to make it look real. If it's any consolation, you handled yourself excellently. You kept your cool and you reacted without hesitation when the moment came."

"With respect, Bass. Fuck you. And the next time, the set up had better involve me kicking your ass, or I will go back to planning how to kill you in your sleep." For a moment, she wondered if she'd gone too far, but Monroe just grinned at her, wondering how he had managed to come out with something that sounded so pompous.

Charlie knew her words were meant to be fighting, but she didn't really have the heart to mean them. Much as she was loathe to admit it, she felt alive like never before; and mostly because of him and his games, and his stupid sexy grin, with his stupid sparkling white teeth. God, she hated him.

Monroe's grin faded as he examined her glowing face recognizing the look. "This high won't last Charlie. And when it fades, you're going to feel like shit".

"It's not the first time I've killed someone Bass," she said, walking on ahead.

"Yes, but it's the first time you enjoyed it, right?"

"I didn't enjoy it. We just did what had to be done. Those guys were going to take me and God only knows how many other young girls have…." She stopped and faced him. "Now I get it. I couldn't work out why that set up, although, God knows, being dragged by the hair and hit across the face is a fun way to start the day, and by the way if that's one of your sexual fantasies, eww, but you just wanted to see whether they deserved to be robbed or if they deserved to die and they failed the test. You were the fucking judge, jury and executioner. I have to hand it to you Bass, you can be a cold son of a bitch."

"I didn't see you calling for clemency back there," he said almost primly, trying not to dwell on the fact that she might have been considering what his sexual fantasies might be.

"Like I said, we did what had to be done," she said.

"I recognize the high you're on Charlie, and the crash is coming, believe me. But you're right, I don't feel bad about this one." He sighed inwardly. He knew this meant he was responsible for taking just a little more of her optimism, adding another small piece of darkness to her spirit, but yet she seemed hell bent on going down this road and while he didn't quite know why, he knew he didn't want to let her go down it alone.

~o0o~

They walked on through the day, without seeing another person. They walked hard enough that they had no breath for talk, but as darkness started to fall, Monroe noticed an abandoned barn. They walked towards it, skirting round it cautiously, making sure that it wasn't a trap, or otherwise occupied, but it turned out to be long abandoned.

"I think we might risk lighting a fire so we can cook the rabbits those guys had caught", said Monroe. Charlie nodded. Her stomach growled at the thought. They built a fire behind the barn, as far out of sight as possible. A little while later, a pair of rabbits was roasting and the aroma was mouth-watering.

They ate in silence, sucking the delicious meat off the tiny bones. With a pile of the now cleaned bones in front of her, Charlie stared into the fire. Monroe had been right, the high had worn off and now she felt empty. Not that she regretted what they had done, but just that it no longer seemed anything but calculated, brutal and cold. Was this how it started for him, she wondered.

Monroe looked over at her. "Was I right about the high, Charlie?" Charlie nodded, but didn't offer any more conversation. Monroe was about to suggest putting out the fire and getting some sleep, when she spoke.

"Bass can I ask you something?" She didn't wait for him to respond before rushing on. "What happened to you?" she said. "I mean, that monster in Philadelphia who seemed to take joy in manipulation, murder and cruelty – the Monroe that Miles and Rachel told me about, the one that I saw. How did that happen? I know I didn't believe you when you tried to say it before, and I might still be the most naïve idiot ever if it's all just an act, but it just doesn't seem to me like you are that man. The Bass I've seen these last few weeks has been kind and thoughtful, hard and vicious for sure, but not without reason and I've never felt anything other than safe with you, well, maybe not those first few days, but even so. I just don't get it." The words came out in too much of a rush, and Charlie felt like she must sound like an awkward teenager trying to speak to a cute boy.

A sliver of lightness flared in him as he heard her words, like a tiny window had been opened, but when he looked up at her and Charlie saw the bleakest look that she'd ever seen.

"I don't know Charlie. I don't know if I will ever know. I might once have said it started when Miles left the Republic – I blamed him for a long time because he broke my heart. But truthfully, it started before then. Probably back to when we were kids. I was so alone after I lost my family, everything familiar gone in a heartbeat. I had nobody in the world except Miles, but I was too afraid of losing him, so I ended up holding on too tight. When you hold on too tight, you end up crushing it. He had always been my brother, always my centre, and when he finally lost faith in me, I was finished. I did something unforgivable, so he and Nora walked out of the Republic and the more I tried to keep control, the worse it got. I could feel myself falling into this darkness that I knew was me, but I couldn't stop myself. I thought about ending it all so many times. I never wanted to be General Monroe and I wouldn't have been if it wasn't for Miles. Some nights, holding a gun to my head was the only thing that made it bearable; there was comfort in knowing that I could end it at any time. And then at the tower, when I thought Neville was going to execute me, I welcomed it because I thought it was all finally going to stop."

Charlie watched the emotions storm across his face as he spoke. She had been expecting him to tell her to shut up, or make some flippant comment. She hadn't expected him to really talk and now she wondered why she could ever have thought he was a cold, emotionless robot, because the more she knew of him the more she thought he was probably the most feeling man she'd ever met. She waited for him to continue.

"After the bombs, I felt relief for a while; relief that the Republic was gone, that General Monroe was gone. But it didn't last because then the guilt started to hit. Seeing everything that I'd done in the cold light of day was almost intolerable. That's why you found me fighting in New Vegas. I found that the nightly beatings just helped keep it all a little bit at bay. Then you came along with your crossbow and tried to put me out of my misery, but you failed." He laughed bitterly and looked her in the eye for the first time since he had started to speak. "Okay, I know, I should shut up now. You're probably thinking this is all a pile self-indulgent, manipulative bullshit and you're about to tell me how much of a pathetic egomaniac I am."

Charlie moved over so she was a little closer to him, close enough to lean over and take his hand. Monroe went still, afraid that any movement from him would break the spell. He watched her in mute disbelief as she lifted his hand to her lips and kissed the back of it, and then placed it gently back down on his knee. To his horror, a tear rolled down his cheek.

"I don't deserve you", he said, his voice cracked.

"No, you probably don't," she said, with a small smile, "but you have me anyway." Monroe had no idea what she really meant, but he would accept it, whatever her reason.

Charlie's emotions churned. She was reeling from what just happened. She didn't know why she had taken his hand like that, or why she said what she said. It had just been an impulse, but she knew it wasn't a lie. For what seemed an age, they looked at each other, neither one knowing what to say or do next. The silence stretched, longer still, until an owl hooted, from somewhere in the barn. Charlie jumped, momentarily startled and the moment broke and time seemed to start up again.

Monroe stood up and started to put out the fire. He held out a hand to Charlie and he hauled her to her feet. "You should get some sleep," he said, his face unreadable. "I'll take first watch".

Charlie slipped by him, into the barn. At the door, she turned to him. "Goodnight Bass," she said.


	2. Chapter 2

Many thanks to all of you who left reviews for the first instalment – so very much appreciated. Here's another chapter following the same story, but taking into account what happened in episode 2.5.

It was mid-morning when they got out on the road again; another day trying to figure out what the Patriots might be up to. Charlie looked over at Bass, as he stalked up the road. God, he looks like crap, she thought. He had barely said a word since he woke up and what he had said had been monosyllabic. He'd barely even looked her in the eye, and stomped around like a walking cloud of thunder. When they set off, she let him get ahead of her because she could do without the sulkfest that he was this morning, but she couldn't help enjoying the view, just a little bit.

She walked along for a while, waiting to see if he would come out of the bad mood, but finally ran out of patience. She jogged up the road, so she could fall in step beside him. "Bass, are we going to talk about last night, or are you going to give me the silent treatment all day?"

He stopped dead and spun towards her. She flinched and took a step back when she saw his expression. She worried that he might hit her. "Charlie. Let's get one thing straight. There is no "last night". Okay? I said a lot of things. Things I probably shouldn't have said, and you were very gracious about it, for which I am grateful, but that's it."

"Bass are you really…" He cut her off before she could finish.

"No, Charlie," he barked, his face red with anger. "I believe I was clear. We are not going to talk about this any more. It's over. You are not a kid, and we have more important things to worry about than each other's feelings."

"Fuck you, Monroe. I should have known better than to trust you", she yelled, starting to storm off, but Monroe grabbed her arm, and yanked her back close, his hand squeezing her hard enough to hurt. "I've already told you once Charlie", he hissed at her. "You don't get to talk to me like that."

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," she said, her voice full of contempt. She tried to pull her arm away. "And, let go of me." she yelled, returning his glare. He looked down at his hand on her arm and, as if he hadn't realized he was touching her, he suddenly let go. She rubbed her harm, looking for bruises, but then stormed up the road.

Monroe sighed and shook his head as he watched her go. She was so damn maddening. Every one of the bloody Mathesons had a way of getting under his skin. Last night had unsettled him. He hadn't intended spilling his guts to her like that and he had no idea why he did, but he couldn't seem to stop once he'd started. He'd expected her to be angry, or scornful, so the last thing he expected was for her to take his hand. In the moment, when she touched him, he had been profoundly grateful, and when he said he didn't deserve her, he had meant he didn't deserve her forgiveness or acceptance. But "you have me anyway" was what she had said in reply, and he had no idea what she had meant. He craved her acceptance more than he wanted to admit, but if she had meant something more, he was neither blind nor made of stone and that was a dangerous path for them to go down. So, he hadn't meant to hurt her, but was only trying to shut things down before anyone did anything they might regret. But she wouldn't let it lie and she had goaded him into yet another fight. He wondered if she always this headstrong and determined to get her own way? Of course she was. She was a goddamn Matheson.

Charlie stomped up the road in front of Monroe, refusing to look back. What a fucking jerk, she thought; an egomaniac who expected everyone to do his bidding. In that moment she hated him, but despite her bad temper, the fast pace of the walk had soon drained the anger out of her and she found herself thinking about what had happened with a much clearer head. She had no idea what had made her reach for his hand last night, only that it had been a sudden impulse that she hadn't tried to ignore, He had looked in so much pain, it was the only thing she could think of to do to help, but when her lips had touched his skin, she could barely breathe. Then, when he had looked up at her like that, her heart had almost stopped; his face had been heartbreaking. If he had reached out for her then, she didn't think she would have stopped him - she would have kissed him back… God, what was she thinking? However remorseful he might seem, he was still a murdering psychopath and Danny's blood was still on his hands, no matter how hot he might be. She was just being stupid and childish. Way to go Charlie, she thought.

Charlie slowed down to let Monroe catch up with her. As he drew beside her, she looked across at him. "Bass look. The rail yard", she said, pointing into the distance. He nodded. Both of them knew that it was the nearest thing to an apology either would get.

"See that hill? We should get a good view from up there," said Monroe. They walked in silence, but now, the silence was once more companionable. At the top of the hill, they settled in to watch, lying on their stomachs next to each other. Charlie looked out across the valley. Everything looked so peaceful and quiet, and for a moment, she let her mind drift, imagining what life might be like without the fighting. What would she be doing? When she found she couldn't think of anything, it made her sad. Is that was she had become; someone with no dreams? Monroe shifted beside her and his forearm nudged against hers. She looked down at their arms side by side, both as tanned as each other, but where hers was smooth and round, his was taut, strung with muscles and lashed with tiny scars. She wondered how he had got them; how many other scars he'd collected over the years.

"What?" said Monroe, without taking his eye off the rail yard. He had sensed she was watching him.

"Nothing," she said, embarrassed and mad at herself for finding herself thinking about him yet again. "Just wondering how long we have to keep looking before we decide there's nothing to see."

"Is there something else you'd rather be doing?" he said, turning his eyes full on her, their faces closer than he had intended. Charlie swallowed hard and shook her head. She looked up back down at the rail yard. Monroe groaned inwardly, when he noticed a blush stain her cheeks; he'd meant it as a reprimand, to remind her to keep focused.

"Bass, look." A train had appeared over the horizon. They watched as it made a slow journey across the landscape, leaving puffs of white smoke as it went. At the rail yard, it stopped. They watched a squad of patriot soldiers jump from one of the cars and take positions, clearly waiting for something. A few minutes later, a pair of horse drawn carts appeared, filled with people, a ragged mix, mostly young. The wagons were each escorted by a small group of soldiers. The people on the carts started to get out. It didn't look like they were especially frightened. In fact, they appeared to be relaxed and chatting. The soldiers directed them towards the train and started herding them in, giving each a bag as they got inside; food, water maybe? They couldn't see clearly enough to tell. Once the people were all inside the train, the soldiers bolted the doors. The now empty wagons set off back the way they came, along with the soldiers that came with them, but the soldiers who came with the train stayed, on guard. It would be pointless to try to get closer to the train to find out what was going on. There were too many of soldiers.

"How about we follow the wagons and see where they came from?" asked Charlie. "They must have come from some kind of camp or base, since I don't think there are any towns near here."

"It's as good a plan as any, I suppose," he said. They gathered up their stuff and set off down the hill, in the direction of the wagons. Although the wagons were long gone by the time they got to the trail, they found the tracks and started to follow, trying to keep to the trees where they could.

"Freeze", a voice barked out of nowhere. Half a dozen soldiers appeared out of the trees, all holding rifles that were pointed at Monroe and Charlie. "Put you hands behind your head and get down on your knees."

Charlie and Monroe did as they were told.

A couple of the soldiers came and took their gear, Monroe's swords, Charlie's crossbow and their shotgun, but they didn't find the small knife that Charlie now kept stuffed down the back of her jeans.

The squad leader took a look at them both and his eyes widened.

"You are Sebastian Monroe! Now this is quite a surprise." Monroe didn't say anything, but Charlie recognized the easy relaxation in his body – she had thought it was because he was just arrogant about his ability to win in any situation, but now she knew it meant he was on high-alert, and at his most deadly.

"Hanson, Marshall, tie their hands," he barked at two of the soldiers. The two of them brought out some lengths of rope. The soldiers grabbed their arms, pulled both of them to their feet and tied their hands. Charlie was ready to fight, so was a little surprised that Monroe let it happen, but there were seven of them, all armed and she was wiling to take his lead.

"And who's your friend, Monroe?" said the squad leader.

Monroe looked across at Charlie. "She's just a girl I picked up to pass the time. Just because I'm a wanted man doesn't mean I don't still have needs, you know?" Charlie's expression was a mixture of horrified and confused.

"Well, you're not going to need her now, pal. Your time is almost up," said the squad leader. "Hanson, Marshall, take her back to the train – she looks like she might be a good candidate."

Hanson took hold of her arm, but quite gently, she noted. As they led her away, she caught a last look at Monroe, still kneeling on the ground, but he didn't look at her.

"Please don't hurt me?" Charlie pleaded in a meek voice, trying to play up the scared little girl as much as she could.

"No, you're safe now," said Hanson, "although I'd say you had a very lucky escape."

"What's going to happen to me?" she said, her eyes filling with tears.

"You're lucky. You're going to be heading South, to a new place, without all this fighting. The President of the United States is back and he's putting things back to rights. And he's setting up new towns, where everyone will have enough food, water, a place to life. Some dignity, instead of everyone living like animals."

"That sounds nice," Charlie said, in a small voice. "I think I would like that. My name is Anna, by the way."

"Well pleased to meet you Anna," said Hanson smiling at her. Then Charlie tripped, and fell heavily, sprawling on the ground.

"Are you okay?" said Hanson. Marshall, who'd been leading them, spun around, pointing the gun at her.

"Please don't hurt me," she squealed at Marshall. "I just tripped over a rock", she said. "I bumped my knee though." She was relieved when Marshall lowered the gun. As she squirmed to get back on her feet, Charlie palmed the knife from her jeans. As they set off to walk again, she carefully started to work it into the rope at her wrists.

"Was that really General Monroe?" said Charlie. "I can't believe it. We just hooked up a few days ago and he seemed kinda nice. I mean he was a bit gruff and moody, but he treated me pretty good, anyway."

"I find that hard to believe," said Hanson. "He's a monster."

What do think they are going to do to him?" asked Charlie.

"Well, I'm pretty sure it will be the death penalty. How can it not be? Do you know how many people he's murdered? We always knew thought he was a madman, but when he dropped those nukes, we finally had the proof. They'll probably take him back to Willoughby".

"I still can't believe I was with General Monroe." Charlie wailed. "That's just so gross." Hanson laughed. She finally got the knife through the rope and she stuffed the rope down the back of her jeans so it didn't fall on the ground. She kept her hands behind her back, holding the knife.

"Well you're safe now you're with us Anna," said Hanson, smiling at her. She smiled back and then hit him hard in the solar plexus and he collapsed to the ground. Marshall reacted to the sound of the blow, and has he turned to look, Charlie threw her knife and it sank into his throat.

She turned to Hanson, who was still groaning on the ground. As she bent towards him, he suddenly kicked up at her, and his boot caught her square on the side of the mouth, so hard, she felt like her jaw was broken. She fell backwards, feeling blood spill into her mouth. Hanson struggled to his feet and picked up his rifle, but she launched herself at his legs and it was enough to put him off balance, but hit her with the rifle butt and caught the side of her face. The pain made her see stars and for a moment she blacked out, and by the time she recovered her senses, he was on top of her, his hands around her neck, choking her. As she started to feel blackness swimming into her vision, she she slid his own knife from his belt. She looked into his eyes as she jammed the knife it into his abdomen, pushing up as high as she could. "So sorry Hanson," she whispered. "You didn't deserve this." He looked at her, bewildered and then slumped forward onto her. He was heavy enough that she couldn't get a breath and she struggled to push him off her. Once she was free, she sat for a moment, waiting for the roaring in her head to subside. When she felt like she was no longer going to pass out, she checked the soldiers to make sure they were both dead. She took their rifles and searched their pockets for anything useful; nothing much except a hip flask. She opened in and took a slug. She recapped it and put the flask in her pocket. Then she dragged the bodies, each one in turn, into the undergrowth beside the trail and then kicked over the ground to cover up as much of the blood as she could. She pulled some leaves from the trees and used them to wipe the blood from her hands. Monroe would have been proud of her, she thought bitterly, because right now she didn't really feel anything. Whatever remorse she might have was pushed way down.

She took off running through the woods, keeping well away from the path, knowing that she had about fifteen minutes ground to make up on Monroe. She didn't even consider just taking off and leaving him to save himself. After about a mile, she started to make for higher ground, so she had a better chance of seeing where they had got to. Finally, she got high enough to see them, about a mile up ahead. As far as she could see, there were still only the two wagons and five soldiers. She could see Monroe, sitting in the first cart, with the bag over his head and he seemed to be okay still.

Up ahead of the carts she could see a right curve in the trail. She thought that if she headed up over the hill, she might be able to get ahead of them and cut them off. The rifles she'd taken from Hanson and Marshall were both loaded, but there were only 12 rounds between them both. She thought about combining the rounds into one rifle but she wasn't sure how well maintained they were, so if there was a jam, she would have nothing. For a moment, she started to panic. What if she screwed it up and made things worse? But, she was determined. This was going to work.

She found a good spot on just off the road, a little higher up. She got down on her stomach and sighted the rifle that seemed to be in the best shape. She set the other gun beside her, ready to swap. Her heart was beating so fast, her hands were shaking. She took some deep breaths. Focus Matheson. Focus.

The first of the carts rolled into view, still out of range, but giving her enough time to relax a little. Three of the men were in the first car with Monroe and the other two were in the second cart. The second cart came around the corner. She settled down, finger on the trigger. Closer and closer they came, until finally they were in range. No hesitation. She hit the squad leader with her first shot and he was instantly killed. She hit two more, with the rest of the first clip, and although they weren't returning fire, she didn't think she had killed either of them. That left the other two and although she was safe enough in her spot, the fear still ramped up as bullets zinged into the trees around her.

Charlie switched to the second gun and as she sighted it, she realized that she couldn't see Monroe any more. Where the hell was he? Had she shot him by accident? She shot at the remaining two soldiers and she had no idea if she had hit either of them, but now, nobody was returning any fire. She took some deep breaths, wanting to keep the last few rounds if she needed them. Where are you Bass? She watched for a minute or two more, but saw no movement.

She picked up the rifle and skirted back, coming down onto the road well out of sight of the wagons and then headed into the trees on the other side of the road, so she could approach from the other side, where they wouldn't expect her. She crept slowly through the trees until she could see the carts, but she still couldn't see the bodies. She crouched down behind a tree, as close as she dared, and finally, she was able to count five bodies on the ground, but none of them was Monroe. She bent her head, almost light-headed with relief. She didn't want to risk that any of them were playing dead, just to shoot her in the back as she walked away, so she knew she needed to be sure. She took a deep breath and went down to the bodies and checked them all, one by one. They were all dead. She closed her eyes for a moment until the wave of sadness that hit her had passed. She climbed up into the wagon and found their gear and she slung her crossbow across her back.

She stood up, looking both ways up and down the deserted trail. Where was he?

As soon as the shots had started, Monroe had thrown himself flat in the wagon and took a knife from his bag. Amateurs, he thought. They had left the bag sitting there, right by his feet. He cut through the ropes off his wrist and slid out of the wagon. The squad leader was already dead. Two of the others were on the ground, injured, but they were so focused on where the shots were coming from, they didn't even see Monroe coming as he slit both their throats. The last two soldiers were under the second wagon and were shooting into the trees. Monroe took the rifle of one of the dead mean and shot them both. The shots from the trees stopped. Logic told him the shooter had to be Charlie, but he wanted to make sure. He waited in the trees a few metres up the road. For a few long minutes, nothing happened, no sounds, not movement, and he went cold, thinking that Charlie might have been shot too. Then he saw her coming down the opposite side of the hill. Smart girl, he thought. He watched her check the bodies and collect their stuff and then he came out of the trees, appearing like a mirage, in front of her on the road.

"Bass," she said, and she started to walk towards him, but found her legs giving out under her.

Monroe could see that she was about to fall, so he closed the distance and she collapsed into him. Monroe wrapped his arms around her. "I've got you Charlie", he said softly. "It's over". When he felt her tears against his chest, he tightened his arms around her. "Charlie, we need to get away from here before anyone misses the wagons. I know you're probably in shock, but do you think you can walk?" Charlie lifted her head and nodded, weakly. Her bruised, bloodied face was ashen. He hadn't seen the injuries when he first saw her and the anger hit him hard. "Godammit, you're hurt." he said and scooped her up like she weighed nothing, and carried her off the trail and into the woods.

"I'm fine," she said. "It's just a couple of bruises", she said, but he just kept walking. Once they were well out of sight of the trail, he finally set her down and gently pushed her hair back from her face. He ran his thumb gently down her cheek, and then took her chin in his hand to turn up her face to look at the cut on her mouth and the bruises on her neck. Charlie shivered but she wasn't sure if it was because she was still in shock, or because he was touching her, but then saw his face darken and she froze. "This is more than a couple of bruises, Charlie. What did those fuckers do to you?" he yelled.

By now, the feeling had started to come back into Charlie's limbs and her brain seemed to be firing normally again, so Charlie heard the note of crazy that had crept into Monroe's voice. She'd forgotten that he had no idea what had happened to her and was clearly imagining the worst. "Bass, it's okay", she said, taking one of his hands.

"How the fuck is this okay?" he barked, his eyes fixed on hers, wild, and the muscles in his jaw jumping.

"It was just a fight Bass" she said. "One of the soldiers kicked me and then hit me with a rifle butt. But it was just a fight. I started it. I finished it. Nothing else happened." She squeezed his hand, and then finally, he let out a long breath.

"Bass, I'm fine. Really. I'm a big girl."

"Why didn't you just take off, you could have just gone back to Miles and Rachel. I could have taken care of myself."

Charlie realised that the question of not going back for him had never even come up in her mind. She could have just left him and nobody would have blamed her, not even him.

"Well, you're didn't exactly come out of this unscathed. Monroe looked down at his shoulder and saw blood. A bullet graze maybe? He hadn't even felt it. "Come on," she said. "Let's go and find somewhere to get cleaned up."

They set off walking away from the trail and once Monroe saw that Charlie was moving normally again and didn't seem badly hurt, he started to calm down, and the familiar thrill of yet another near-miss cleared away the last of the rage.

As Charlie walked, the shock and fuzziness worked out of her system. They walked for a good while; far enough that they finally felt safe that when the bodies were discovered, they could not be tracked. They came across an old house, long abandoned, half the walls crumbled to nothing. They decided that it would be a good place to stop, to get cleaned up and shelter for the night.

Once inside, Charlie felt some of the tension drain out of her muscles. She sank down onto the floor, and leant her head back against the wall. She looked over at Monroe, who was leaning against the opposite wall, going through the pack that he'd taken from one of the soldiers. She recognized the same broody slouching pose from the swimming pool and wondered if he had practised in front of a mirror. Although her face hurt like hell, she suddenly felt the urge to laugh.

"Something funny?" he said.

"No, nothing funny at all. I mean, we were captured today, and if we hadn't got away, both of us would probably have ended up in front of a firing squad. I got beaten up, and you have blood all down your arm. Oh, I and killed a bunch of men so I could rescue your broody psychopathic ass. So, not funny," Charlie said, trying to swallow down a chortle.

"I agree, nothing funny," agreed Monroe, grinning.

"So, does it mean I'm a bad person that I'm laughing?" said Charlie.

Monroe laughed. "And you're asking me because I have the strongest moral compass of any man you know?"

"You're the only man I have, Bass. I killed all the others."

They both collapsed into laughter, the kind that hurts because you're laughing so hard. It felt so good to Charlie, but then she found the laughter turning into sobs and realised she couldn't stop it. She put her head down and hugged her knees, tears flowing now. She felt such a baby, and she hated losing control like this around Monroe, but rather than the impatience she'd expected, he came and sat down beside her and put his arm around her shoulders. She sank against him, head against his shoulder.

"You still didn't tell me why you did it. When you got away, you should have just taken off."

"So does that mean you would you have left me?" she asked.

"No", he said. "I wouldn't have left you either. They sat, quiet, side by side, until her tears finally stopped. She breathed a huge shuddering sigh.

"So, on a scale of one to ten, how bad do I look?," she said, looking up.

He looked at her. There was blood down one side of her face from the cut on her forehead, her eyes were red and swollen from the crying and a puffy purple bruise was developing on her cheek. Monroe felt gut-wrenching guilt that she'd risked herself for him, but impressed that she was so tough. She just took everything on the chin and got on with it, no moody brooding for her. She was like a light in the dark. If he was tough, it was only because he'd learned to face the fear with brutality, but she faced the fear with nothing but belief and he could never hope to match her. But, right now, she looked a like a huge swollen mess.

"You are beautiful, Charlie," he said, smirking.

Charlie wiped a smear of snot and blood from her face. "You're such a fucking romantic, Bass. Who knew?" she said, laughing. She swatted him playfully, but he winced when she made contact.

Charlie grinned. "I just remembered something", she said, getting up. She pulled out the hip flask from her pocket. She waggled it in front of Monroe's face. She took a swig from the flask and knelt down astride his thighs and started to slide his overshirt down over his arms. Monroe's heart almost stopped. What the hell was she doing?

Charlie saw the look on his face. "Mind out of the gutter, Monroe. Did you forget that you have a wound that needs cleaning? Take off your t-shirt," she said, tearing a strip off the bottom of his overshirt. As he took off the shirt, he raised an eyebrow, deliberately suggestive. Arrogant bastard, she thought, but her bravado started to falter. There was suddenly way too much nakedness, way too close and she was sitting in his lap. She tried to focus on the wound on Monroe's shoulder. It was a graze from a bullet, not deep, but could easily become infected. She splashed some of the liquor from the flask onto the strip she'd torn and pressed it onto the wound.

Monroe flinched and dug his fingers into Charlie's thighs when the alcohol bit. "You enjoyed that, didn't you?" he said, with a grimace.

"Just a little bit," she said, laughing, but the laugh died when she saw the look on Monroe's face, which was suddenly deadly serious. His hands slid up her thighs to her hips and he yanked her forward, so she was leaning against his chest, their faces inches apart. His eyes burned into hers and she felt her blood pounding in her ears. Neither moved and the moment drew out. Charlie leaned in a fraction, her lips almost touching his, unable to help herself. Then she felt his arms suddenly relax and he dropped his hold on her hips. He bent his head forward and butted his forehead to hers

"Matheson, you are fucking killing me."

Charlie scrambled off his lap, mortified. "I'm sorry Bass, I didn't mean…"

Monroe laughed and shook his head. "Is there any fire in this Universe that you won't play with?" he asked. Charlie laughed, feeling awkward and embarrassed, and started rummaging through their stuff, desperately trying to find something to do.

Monroe watched her. There was no denying it now, however much he might wish it weren't true, he wanted her. Monroe groaned. This cannot happen, he told himself. This cannot happen.

~o0o~

The next morning, Monroe and Charlie started back to Willoughby for their planned rendezvous with Miles. Charlie was just glad that they were both managing to pretend that last night hadn't happened. Her face reddened just thinking about it, she was so embarrassed. She had wanted something to happen, and if he hadn't stopped things... God, it was all such a disaster.

When the got near to Willoughby, the frost between Miles, Rachel and Monroe hadn't really thawed, and the sight of Charlie's face, with the cuts and bruises didn't help matters. But they were all there for the meeting with Ranger John Frye, out at the old logging plant; a meeting that ended with Monroe shooting him in the back of the head.

~o0o~

Monroe stepped over the Ranger's body and stormed out of the plant, to angry to even speak. He was as usual, the bad guy, the psycho, but yet they were all a bunch of hypocrites. How many people had Miles and Rachel killed between them, but sure, he was the crazy one. They had wanted a war and he just got them one and he's still the fucking villain.

Rachel, Miles and Aaron were bickering about what they were going to do next, so they didn't notice Charlie slip out to join Monroe.

He was leaning against the fence overlooking the river. "Leave me alone Charlie", he said coldly.

"Bass," she said and laid a hand gently on his arm. When he turned to look at her, she saw the same face she'd seen the night when he told her about how Miles had lost faith in him and how he'd fallen apart.

"I said leave me alone".

"Why did you do it, Bass?"

"Oh, not you too," he said, pain twisting his face.

"Bass I get it. I do, but sometimes, the most effective thing to do isn't necessarily the right thing to do. You know that, right? Sometimes there has to be another option."

Monroe put his head down on the fence, with a desperate moan, and then with no warning, he reared up, drew his sword and slammed it into the wood of the fence.

Charlie took a step back, but she knew he was just frustrated and angry and hurt, and not lashing out at her. He let out this awful, strangled growl and then leant back down on the fence, his head in his hands. She leant down on the fence next to him. "We'll find a way Bass," she said. Neither of them saw see Rachel in the doorway of the plant, watching them.

~o0o~

That night, they had all left Monroe at the mill, and gone back into Willoughby. Charlie hadn't wanted to go, but they didn't give her much choice. She tried to find a reason to stay, but Monroe caught her eye and gave her the tiniest shake of his head. He knew that he was still raw and angry enough that he wouldn't be able to trust himself around her. Charlie couldn't deny that sleeping in a bend with clean sheets was a treat that made it worth it, so she went back into town with them.

The next morning, Charlie got dressed and came downstairs. Miles was sitting at the kitchen table.

"Morning kiddo," said Miles. "It's nearly eleven."

Charlie laughed. "Well, it's been a crazy few days", she said, rubbing her cheek gingerly.

Miles rolled his eyes. "I don't want to know, do I?" Charlie shook her head.

"Where's mom?" Charlie asked, but just as the words were out of her mouth Rachel came into the kitchen, her face grim.

"We should try to get out the plant soon." said Charlie.

There's no need Charlie. He won't be there any more," said Rachel, voice dangerously steady.

"Mom? What do you mean?" Rachel didn't react at all. "What did you do?" yelled Charlie. Charlie looked at Miles and he shook his head, just as in the dark as Charlie was.

"I did what needed to be done, Charlie," Rachel said, her voice like steel, daring Charlie to question her.

Horror dawned on Charlie's face. "You gave him up? Mom, please tell me you didn't. To the Patriots? How could you?"

Rachel raised her chin defiantly.

"They'll execute him, mom." Charlie screamed. "Why would you do it? He was trying to help us."

Rachel came up very close to her. "I have known him a lot longer than you, Charlie. And I saw the way you looked at him."


	3. Chapter 3

**Many thanks to all of you who left reviews for the second instalment – so very much appreciated. Here's another chapter following the same story, but taking into account what happened in episode 2.6. Not much of Charlie and Bass together, but, well one of them is having a pretty rough couple of days...**

* * *

Charlie felt the ground shift below her feet. Her mom had betrayed Monroe because of her. She sat down, suddenly faint.

Miles shook his head in disbelief. "Rachel, do you have any idea what you've done?"

Rachel shook her head vehemently and closed her eyes. Why did everyone continually want give that man second chances? She understood why Miles did. They were friends since they were kids and they loved each other like brothers, but Charlie? She hadn't seen that one coming at all. As far as she knew Charlie hated him as much as she did, so it just didn't make any sense. But she had seen the way that Charlie had looked at Bass out at the plant and the thought of her daughter with him just made her sick. How could she possibly look at him like that knowing what he was capable of? She tired of all the excuses.

"We needed him," Miles said, turning away.

"Why didn't you listen to us mom?" said Charlie. I know how much you hate him and I hated him too. But even after I tried to kill him, he still treated me like family. He saved my life, and you know what? He never made me feel stupid. I know he's responsible for Danny's death, and he can never make up for that, but we all have blood on our hands, you as much as anyone. So please don't stand there thinking you're the only one whose opinion counts.

"Charlie…" Rachel moved towards Charlie, but Charlie stormed out of the room before she could reach her. Rachel turned to Miles.

"No, don't look at me like that Rachel. I agree with her", he said.

~o0o~

Charlie waited in her bedroom, stomach churning, waiting for the inevitable. Finally, when she heard the sound of horses and the sound of a crowd out in the street she knew that Monroe's time had run out. She went out into the street and watched as a caravan of carts and horses, moved through the town; the Patriots and the Texas Rangers, triumphant together, like it was some kind of parade.

Charlie watched with horror as the last cart passed by and she saw the cage, with Monroe sitting in there, shackled, like a wild animal. He seemed defeated and broken. She caught his eye for the briefest moment, but he dropped his eyes away from hers. Charlie sat down heavily, since her legs wouldn't hold her up any more and she felt all the conflicted feelings she'd had these last few weeks fall away. It didn't matter how much she'd hated him, how much she'd felt guilty for not hating him, or for wanting him; she just wanted him out of that cage.

That he would be executed was not even in question, so Miles and Charlie spent the afternoon thinking of every possible plan to get Monroe free, but they were holding him in the bank vault and with soldiers and Rangers everywhere, any kind of escape attempt would be futile. Charlie watched night fall, desperation quickly setting in over them both because there was no answer and there was no time. She had never seen Miles like this, no ideas, no plan, no hope, like he'd just given up.

Later that night, just before the execution was scheduled, Miles was summoned to the bank to see Monroe and for a moment, a brief hope flared, but they realized that Monroe would be too well guarded for it to make any difference. Charlie put her arms around Miles before he left and he hugged her tight. She waited and waited, hoping, but there were no gunshots, no commotion, just silence, and when Miles came back, he was a wreck. She didn't ask what had happened, since she knew he wouldn't be able to talk about it. She had always known his feelings for Monroe ran deep and complicated, but she had never seen him this lost.

"Miles, is there nothing we can do?" she asked, in desperation.

He slugged down a large pour of whiskey. "It's over Charlie. He's gone." Charlie put her hand on his shoulder and he looked up at her, with his eyes, brimming with tears. Despite everything, he'd lost a brother he had loved, and she knew how that felt.

Miles refused to go to the execution – he just stayed in the bar, drinking. Charlie felt like she'd never forgive her mom and her grandfather when she found out that they would be the ones to do it. It would be one thing for either of them kill him in a fight, or even in cold blood, but to put him down like a dog at a public execution, with everyone cheering like it was entertainment, it was almost impossible to bear. Worse still, her grandfather actually seemed happy.

Charlie waited outside the courthouse with Aaron and he could feel Charlie's pain. At his most generous, Aaron felt only ill will for Monroe, but even he felt conflicted about things ending this way.

The guards brought Monroe into the courthouse, chained and shackled, and as he shuffled up to steps, he saw Charlie standing there. He couldn't speak to her. He just drank in her face, trying to remember every detail, a bright, unsullied memory to die with. She watched as they pushed him inside, and as the doors slammed behind him, Aaron put his arms around her, and she buried her face against his chest and let her tears fall.

~o0o~

Monroe felt like he was choking, suddenly awake, but with no idea where he was or even who he was. Then, slowly, painfully, his consciousness began to gather again. He remembered the needle sliding into his arm. He remembered seeing Charlie, and then Rachel and her dad. He remembered the feeling of regret, regret at so many terrible mistakes and no more chances to make anything right. He opened his eyes to find himself in a bed, covered with a sheet. He looked around the room.

"Rachel?" Bass said. She was sitting in a chair near the end of the bed.

"Welcome back Bass," said Rachel, but her voice was anything but welcoming.

Monroe's mind was spinning, confused and he felt like he had the worst flu combined with the worst hangover. He just couldn't make any of it make sense.

"You didn't die, Bass. I just made sure they thought you did. You're going to feel like crap for a good while, but it's temporary."

He couldn't understand what she was saying because his brain felt so sluggish; she hated him more than anyone. Why would she have saved him? Rachel saw the confusion on his face.

"I didn't do it for you. I did it for Charlie and Miles. So, let's just get one thing clear between us. I don't give a damn about you. I will never give a damn about you. I brought you back despite every cell in my body telling me that it would be a colossal mistake, so you just have to promise me one thing Bass."

Monroe could barely speak; his throat was so dry and sore. "Anything," he said hoarsely.

"You have to promise me that you will leave my daughter alone. I don't know what you did to her after she found you, but she must have drunk the fucking Bass Kool-Aid. I know I Miles practically mainlines the stuff, despite how much he claims to hate you, so there's probably nothing I can do about that, but I can stop you from taking Charlie down with you. You let me have my daughter."

"Rachel …," he started to say, but trailed off.

"Promise me, Bass," she demanded.

Monroe's mind was still trying to come to terms with still being alive. He had accepted his death in that courtroom, and in the end, almost welcomed it, but when he had come back to consciousness, he realized he hadn't wanted to die, just like Rachel knew he would. He had desperately wanted to live, despite the pain, and guilt, and loneliness, so it seemed fitting that it was Rachel that brought him back. He owed her so much, he knew. He couldn't give her back the years of her life in Philly, the years she missed seeing Charlie and Danny grow up, and he could never bring back Ben or Danny for her. So, no matter how he might feel about Charlie, how much of a price it would be for him, how could he deny her this?

Monroe nodded, leaning back onto the pillow, defeated and exhausted, and barely holding onto consciousness.

~o0o~

Charlie sat at the kitchen table, picking at her food. She couldn't force anything down, the execution still too raw. Miles still hadn't come downstairs, sleeping off his hangover and Rachel and Gene had been seeing patients all morning, like it was just another day. Gene came into the kitchen and was about to speak to her, but Charlie rolled her eyes, pushed her plate away and stomped off upstairs. She went into Miles's room and pushed back the curtains – the room reeked of whiskey and sweat and she knew he'd stew in here indefinitely if she didn't do something.

"Miles. Come on. Wake up."

"Charlie, so help me, if you don't get out of here, I'll break both your arms," he growled.

"Miles, we have to get out of here for a bit. If I don't shoot something soon, I'm gonna explode. Rabbits would do."

"Fine," he said, groaning.

Charlie and Miles walked out into the street and realized that the town was once again in lockdown. Now that the Ranger circus had left, the Patriots had closed the gates. They might as well be prisoners.

"Charlie, we're not going anywhere today."

The wandered around town, as if taking a nice walk, but checking out every exit. There was no doubt. They were under lock and key. Charlie sat down on the porch that ran outside the old sheriff's office.

"How are you feeling Miles?" said Charlie

"Like crap on stick Charlie. What do you think?" he said, sitting down beside her.

Charlie smiled. "I think you're supposed to drown your sorrows Miles, not pickle them. You need to stay hydrated". She pulled a bottle of water from her pack and handed it to Miles. Her smile faded. "What was he like?" asked Charlie. "Before, I mean."

Miles looked at her and shook his head. "Charlie, I can't."

"Please Miles. I want to know."

Miles sighed. "Bass was a golden boy. Handsome, clever, everybody loved him. He was a charming fucker – he left a trail of broken hearts in his wake wherever we went. We did everything together back then, high school, basic training, Afghanistan. I know he wasn't perfect – even back then nothing was ever enough for him. He wanted what he wanted, and fuck the consequences and anybody else's feelings, but he always managed to get away with it, just flashed that smile of his and everybody gave him a pass, me most of all."

"I wish I'd known you both back then," said Charlie.

"Well, when he was a bit older than you, his whole family was killed, all at once – you knew about that, right? Well, he just fell apart, and one night I found him with a gun to his head. I thought I'd lost him. I never thought he'd come back from it, but he did and for a while it seemed like he was the old Bass, maybe a bit more cautious, a little more guarded, but maybe he just got better at hiding it. Then, not long after the blackout, his girl died in childbirth and their baby died too. He really loved her and it just seemed to break something in him, and after that, it was just a slow downhill spiral and I helped to push him down it. You know the rest. In the end…" Miles shook his head. "I let him down Charlie. I let him down."

Charlie laid a hand on his arm. "Miles, it's not your fault," she said. "Nobody made him do all the things he did. He made his own choices."

Miles laid his hand over hers. "It might not be my fault, but when he needed me most, I tried to kill him and then I abandoned him and you just don't abandon family Charlie. Bass never would have." Miles ran his hands through his hair, and looked at her with such painful regret that she could barely meet his eyes. "Charlie, can we not talk about this any more? I'm too fucking sober." She put an arm around his shoulders and dropped a kiss on his cheek before he got up and walked away.

Charlie watched him as he disappeared into the people in the main square and she wished there was something she could do for him, but really, there was nothing. The image of a happy, charming Monroe, the same age as her, stayed with her for a long time. She knew how devastated she'd felt losing her dad and Danny within a few months; she couldn't begin to imagine losing almost everyone you truly loved twice. The regret and loss she felt was almost overwhelming, considering that she'd tried to kill him herself a few weeks ago. Miles was right – he had been a charming fucker and he had managed to worm his way into her heart despite everything, and now it just felt like there was something missing.

~o0o~

With a sigh, Charlie decided to go back to the house. She knew she would have to talk to her mom some time, so she might as well get it over with, but when she got back to the house, nobody was there. She sat down to wait. Several hours later, her Granddad came home first and when her mom and Miles finally came back an hour or so later, Charlie was helping Granddad make dinner. They all ate dinner together, behaving as if nothing had happened, even Miles, just polite chat about the weather and the garden and town gossip. Charlie had to grit her teeth to stop herself from saying anything because she knew from the careful lack of emotion on Miles's face that something was going on. Charlie couldn't stand it any more, so after she'd helped with the dishes, she faked a yawn and went to bed early, but stayed awake for a long time, grateful for something else to worry about other than Monroe.

The next morning, she got up early and to her surprise, found Miles already up and alone in the kitchen.

"What's going on Miles?" she said. "And don't tell me nothing because I'll know you're lying."

"Charlie, not here", he whispered, his eyes sharp and focused. "Meet me by the schoolhouse in about half an hour and make sure you are not followed. In the meantime, put a big smile on your face and act like everything's fine."

Charlie nodded, as Miles threw on a jacket and left, with a cheery "Bye Charlie." Almost as soon as the door shut, Rachel came in with an equally cheery "hi Charlie, you're up early." Her face was serene, like she hadn't a care in the world. Charlie wanted to slap her. She knew that her mom had good reason to be glad Monroe was dead, but this happy-smiley was just too damn much even if was an act. "Hey dad," Rachel called out. "I need to pick up a few things in the market today, so I'll be at the clinic in about an hour, is that okay?"

Gene came into the kitchen, buttoning his shirt. "Sure honey", he said. Rachel kissed him on the cheek, and bustled out of the door. "So Charlie," he said. "What are you going to do today?"

"I don't know. Maybe work in the garden? It's been a while since I had time on my hands so I'm a bit out of practice. Most of my time before dad died, I used to hang out with Danny."

Gene came over and stroked her hair. "Sweetheart, I know things have been especially hard on you. Nobody your age should have had to go through the things you have, but the worst is over now. It's going to take a while, but it can only get better from here." He leaned over and kissed the top of her head. "I'll see you later," he said and left her, the house to herself.

A few minutes later, Charlie was on her way to the schoolhouse. Miles appeared out of the shadows, waiting for her, and led her into an abandoned building that must have been some kind of factory before the blackout.

"Miles, what's going on?" she said and as the words came out of her mouth, she saw her mom and Aaron were there too.

"Charlie," he said. "We need to get out of here. Out of Willoughby. You, me, your mom, Cynthia and especially Aaron. We need to leave, and it is not going to be easy. They know who we are and they will not let us get out without a fight."

"And Charlie," said Rachel. "Don't say anything to Granddad, at least not yet. I'm not sure we can trust him with this because I think he may be working with the Patriots."

"So, like you then?" Charlie couldn't stop herself from taking the dig.

"Charlie, I did what I did to protect you. I didn't do it to help them."

"Whatever you need to tell yourself mom," said Charlie, turning away.

"Charlie," said Miles. "I know you're mad at your mom, but there's a lot going on that you don't know about, so for right now, I need you two to get along. Can you do that? Just for today?"

For a moment, Charlie tried to process the information, struggling to put the pieces together, but then she just smiled. "So, how and when?" she said. The truth was that right now, she didn't much care why they had to leave, and what was going on, because action was just what she needed. The enforced idleness of the last few days had given her too much time to dwell, too much time to think about everything that had happened, too much time to remember Monroe's face as he walked into the courthouse, too much time to regret what might have been. The whys could wait.

~o0o~

They all left the factory, plans for their escape agreed. They were leaving tonight. Rachel and Miles left first, while Aaron and Charlie left second, going in the opposite direction. Charlie waited for Aaron to get into the town square before she started to follow, but just as she started walking, a couple of patriot soldiers came up to Aaron, and while she couldn't say for sure, she thought it looked like one of them jammed a handgun into his ribs and started walking him towards their headquarters.

Charlie jogged a little closer. "Hey Aaron, wait!" she called out. Aaron and the soldiers looked around at her and she could see the fear in Aaron's face. She put a big girly smile. "Aaron, I'm so glad I ran into you. My mom was wondering if you and Cynthia would like to come over for dinner tonight."

"I'm not… I'm…maybe," Aaron stammered.

"Mr Pittman is meeting with Doctor Horn from the Patriot high command this evening," said one of the soldiers. "Our Doctor Horn is a big fan of Mr Pittman's work from before the blackout, so they have lots to talk about. Maybe another time, miss"

"Okay," said Charlie trying to sound as perky as possible. "Well, it's no big deal Aaron. Enjoy your chat! See you later", she said, waving goodbye and setting off towards home as quickly as she could.

~o0o~

"Miles, I'm glad you're home," said Charlie coming in quietly. She wasn't sure if Gene was home, and she didn't want to take any chances asking questions. "I was working in the garden earlier today and there's something I wondered if you'd give me a hand with – I couldn't lift it by myself." Miles nodded and flicked his eyes over to the living room.

Miles followed Charlie out into the garden and as soon as they were out of earshot of the house, she turned to him. "Miles, they have Aaron. They picked him up when we left the factory. They said they were taking him to Doctor Horn. What does that mean? Who is Doctor Horn?"

Miles sighed. "Goddamit," he said. "This is very bad. We need to let the others know because we can't leave until we get Aaron out of there and we need to get him out of there fast, before they stick him so full of crap, he'll never be the same again."

"Miles. What is going on?"

"It's a long story, so let's take a walk and I'll tell you. But the short version is that Aaron's in danger, because of the nanites. Remember them? Let's just say the nanites and Aaron have a special relationship. They give him some special powers and the patriots know about them. So, if we don't get him out of here, they'll start running experiments on him like he's a lab rat.…. That's where Doctor Horn comes in."

~o0o~

The last two days have been a serious headfuck, thought Charlie. They had blown up a building on Main Street to create a diversion so that they could rescue Aaron from the crazy doctor. Aaron had burned a handful of patriot soldiers to a crisp, with his mind, and now they were all on the run again, apparently to the California Commonwealth. Then her mother had dropped the craziest bombshell of them all.

~o0o~

Charlie held the breakfast tray in her hand, her heart beating so fast she couldn't hold it still. She climbed the stairs, listening for any sound from upstairs, but all she heard were the sounds of her own footsteps and the slight creak of the floorboards. Blood buzzed in her ears. She stopped and leaned against a wall, trying to calm herself down. The door to the bedroom was open. She walked slowly towards it. Finally, she stood in the doorway. He was lying in the bed, head propped up on pillows, the sheets twisted around his waist.

"Bass," whispered Charlie, her voice cracking. Monroe saw the emotions pass over her face, and saw tears that threatened to spill. She was shocked by just how glad she was to see him, but she ignored the impulse to fling her arms around him and lay her head on his chest, but. For a moment she just stood, unable to produce any words.

"Hey Charlie," he said, with a weak smile.

She went over to the bed, put the tray down, and sat down. "I'd ask you how you were feeling, but you look like death warmed up". He didn't react and she grimaced. Too soon?" she said, awkwardly.

He laughed. "Nah, just teasing. You know me. I'm a sucker for a warm and fuzzy execution joke."

Charlie felt relief flood through her. She had been worried that things would be too weird. One minute she was pretty sure she'd been about to kiss him, then she'd watched him shoot someone in the head in cold blood and the next minute she was watching him walk to his death and now he was back from the dead. She wasn't sure that there was any appropriate way to break that kind of ice.

The tears that Charlie had tried to fight spilled finally. She swiped her hands across her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to cry" she said. "It's just… I wish there was something I could have done. I just stood there and did nothing to stop it.

"Charlie, it's okay," he said, taking her hand. "There was nothing you could have done that wouldn't have got you killed, and my conscience is heavy enough without adding that to it as well."

Charlie smiled. "I mean, I should tell you that I probably still want to kill you myself," she said, with a tiny laugh, "but never like that, like it's some kind off fucking entertainment for the mob."

"Yeah, it wasn't my favourite night out either. I think a quiet night in with a couple of beers would have been the better plan, but you know, you live and learn."

"Bass," she said, almost inaudibly. "How are you really?"

Damn this girl, Monroe thought. What was it about her that made him want to confess his every feeling to her? He wanted to tell her he wasn't okay, not even close, that his hold on his sanity seemed tenuous at best, that the only thing that seemed real to him was her, and that in this moment, he wanted more than anything to pull her down beside him and lose himself in her. A wave of despair hit him because he couldn't say any of those things, not because of Rachel's demand, but because he knew she would let him and she deserved better.

"Charlie, I'm fine, really. It's been a bit of a wild ride, but I'm a survivor."

Charlie smiled, resigned, knowing that Monroe had put shutters down, but before she started to analyze what he might be hiding, she heard footsteps in the hallway. "Hey Bass, you lazy bastard." Miles came in and leaned in the doorway smiling. Charlie hadn't seen such an uncomplicated smile on his face in a very long time and it made her heart lift. "How much longer are you going to lounge around in bed being waited on hand and foot? Anyone would think you'd died and gone to heaven."


	4. Chapter 4

**Many thanks to all of you who left reviews for the third instalment – so very much appreciated. This took a lot longer to write and skips over the events of the last couple of episodes and takes place a little further down the road.**

**Charlie smiled, resigned, knowing that Monroe had put shutters down, but before she started to analyze what he might be hiding, she heard footsteps in the hallway. "Hey Bass, you lazy bastard." Miles came in and leaned in the doorway smiling. Charlie hadn't seen such an uncomplicated smile on his face in a very long time and it made her heart lift. "How much longer are you going to lounge around in bed being waited on hand and foot? Anyone would think you'd died and gone to heaven." **

"Fuck off Miles," said Bass, glad of the distraction. "Rachel shot me so full of crap I can barely remember my name, let alone get up off mine to save your sorry ass."

"Lightweight," he said, grinning. "Just try to get some rest Bass," he said turning and heading back down the stairs.

Monroe was still holding Charlie's hand and she found she didn't want to move, to make the moment last, but as she looked up at him, she saw that he was already drifting away again. She watched how his face relaxed as he fell asleep, and how he seemed so much younger, so much less troubled. "Charlie?" She heard her mom's voice floating up from downstairs. She reluctantly let go of Monroe's hand and went down to join the others.

"When will he be back to normal?" Miles asked Rachel. "We can't risk staying here much longer; they'll be tearing apart the countryside looking for us."

"He's still going to be a bit out of it for another day or so," said Rachel. "But he should be good to travel in the morning."

"So how did you do it mom? Did Granddad know?" asked Charlie, still trying to make sense of what had happened.

"Nobody knew. Everyone just assumed I would just be so delighted to see him die, nobody thought to check up on me. I wasn't completely sure that I was going to get the dosage right. There was probably a good chance he might have died anyway, but a chance was better than nothing."

"Why did you do it? Why did you give him up and then save him?" Charlie was trying hard to be civil, but she was struggling to make sense of everything and her mom was not making things any clearer.

"I had my reasons Charlie," Rachel said. Charlie knew from her tone that she wouldn't elaborate. She knew her mom would never forgive Monroe for everything that had happened, so she had no idea why she would have risked herself to save him, especially as she had ratted him out in the first place. It didn't make any sense. For Charlie, things were different now, and although she still can't quite understand why, she had moved on and she had started to think of Monroe as family. Well, maybe not exactly family because that would be weird. That night, she lay awake for a long while, unable to get Monroe out of her head. Only a few hours ago, she had believed him dead, and now he was here, alive, and docile because of the drugs. Yet another version of Monroe she hadn't met before. Had she even seen the real Monroe? She thought maybe he wasn't even sure himself any more.

~oOo~

The next morning, Charlie had woken up, feeling tired and unrested. In fact, she hadn't slept well since the night before they came to Willoughby. She flushed, remembering how she had sat in Monroe's lap and he had pulled her close.

After she got dressed and gathered up her things, she slid her knife down the back of her jeans. She tiptoed across the landing and peeked into the room Monroe was sleeping in, but he was gone. When she got downstairs, only Aaron, Cynthia and her mom were there.

"Where did Miles and Bass go?" asked Charlie, helping them pack up the gear. Rachel frowned when she heard Charlie call him Bass, but then the door opened suddenly. Charlie grabbed for her knife, but relaxed when she saw Miles, followed by Monroe. She was surprised to see how well Monroe looked, the horror of the last couple of days erased from his face. He saw her watching him, and she dropped her eyes, embarrassed.

"Bass and I have hatched a little plan", Miles said.

"What kind of plan?" asked Rachel suspiciously.

"A couple of fun projects for Charlie, Bass and me before we leave. Just a little something for them to remember us by."

"No, not Charlie," Rachel said firmly, shaking her head. "Whatever you and Bass want to do, that's up to you, but Charlie's coming with me."

"It's a three person job Rachel. We need her, and as soon as we're done, we'll join you. It'll be fine. She's not a little girl any more," said Miles.

Charlie couldn't help her eyes sliding towards Monroe's, and she saw the tiny smirk lift the corner of his mouth.

"I'm going mom," said Charlie, rolling her yes. "Of course I'm going."

"Charlie, you don't even know what it is," Rachel snapped, but Charlie was already picking up a rifle from the table and as she slung it over her shoulder, she moved over to stand between Miles and Monroe. Now it was Rachel's turn to roll her eyes, but Charlie also noticed the furious glare that her mom threw at Monroe. She glanced sideways at Monroe's face, but he was impassive. Whatever that was about, she had no idea.

Rachel shook her head, disgusted, realizing that arguing was going to be a waste of time. A little while later, after some strained goodbyes, Rachel, Aaron and Cynthia left. Charlie, Miles and Monroe set off in the opposite direction, back towards Willoughby.

~oOo~

"Stop," a soldier in a patriot uniform yelled. He was sitting up front of a horse drawn wagon. He signalled the driver to pull up. A body lay prone in the road. "Richards, Muñoz, go check it out. And be careful," he ordered. The rest of the soldiers jumped down from the wagon, on alert, guns raised.

Richards and Muñoz jumped down from the wagon and cautiously walked over to the body, keeping their rifles aimed at its head. It was a girl. Barnes jabbed her shoulder with the barrel of his gun, but she didn't move. Muñoz leaned it to pull the girl's hair away from her face, because they couldn't see if she was alive or dead. Suddenly, the sound of gunfire from the trees took their attention from her, and the rest of the soldiers in the wagon started yelling and diving for cover, and in the chaos of bullets and screaming, and then swords clashing, neither man saw the body jump up behind them. The girl stabbed one through the ribs, and as he slowly slumped to the ground she grabbed his gun and shot the other one. A few moments later, all went silent.

"Charlie, you okay?" yelled Monroe, jogging out of the trees over to where she lay.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said. Monroe's stomach lurched with a rush of relief that he didn't expect. She was struggling to get up under the weight of one of the men she'd just killed, so Monroe stuck out a hand and he hauled her to her feet.

"You?" she asked.

"C'mon babe," he said. "Do you even need to ask?" he said. For a moment, Charlie wanted to slap that smug 'babe' off his face, but damn, he was hot when he grinned like that.

"God, but you're an arrogant bastard," she said, laughing.

She saw Miles checking through the cargo in the wagon. They were pleased to find that Monroe's intel had been correct. Charlie hadn't asked how he had got the information, and she probably didn't want to know anyway, but they were not disappointed by what they found: enough gunpowder and fuses for what they had planned. The three of them stripped the weapons and ammo from the soldiers, dragged their bodies off the road and climbed up into the wagon. Charlie sat in the back, while Monroe and Miles sat up front. She couldn't help admiring the view of Monroe's wide shoulders and his sweat-soaked hair curling around his ears. Stop it Charlie, she told herself sternly.

Despite the fact that they had just killed seven men between them, Charlie felt light. Partly Miles she thought. He had not been happy to see Monroe when she first brought him back to them, but it seemed he'd had a change of heart. Longing for the end of someone you hated, trying to kill a man you hated, was so much easier than losing a man you realized you'd never stopped loving, only hating what they had become. Now, whatever misery had been between them, they appeared to have put aside for now, as she watched their heads bent close, laughing. She was envious. She had never had that kind of bond with anyone, not even Danny.

"So, what are you two giggling about, like a couple of little girls?" she said, watching them together.

Miles turned his head back towards her. "We are not giggling, Charlie," said Miles. "Are we Bass?" he said.

Bass shook his head. "Charlie, are you sure you didn't get a knock on the head back there?"

"It was definitely giggling," she said.

They skirted around Willoughby and headed east, and although they expected it, they didn't run into any trouble. About eight miles out, they came to an abandoned farm and Miles suggested they camp for the night.

They made a small fire and cooked some of the rations they had taken from the wagon and while they ate, they went over the plans for the next day. Miles and Monroe seemed to talk mostly in code, shorthand developed from all their years together. Charlie kept losing the threads of what they were saying, and found herself trying not to yawn.

"Charlie, are we boring you?" said Miles, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, you're both very, very dull," she said laughing. "Nothing interesting ever happens when I'm with you two."

Monroe laughed. He felt a comfort being around both of them like this, a fragile sense of belonging that he barely dared acknowledge. It was a feeling he had craved for so long and he thought he never would again.

After they put out the fire, Miles took first watch as Charlie and Monroe lay down to get some sleep. She lay down with her back towards him, and she was all too conscious that he was close enough to touch her and she wondered what he was thinking.

~oOo~

The railroad that was the main source of supplies and troops in and out of Willoughby crossed a small river twenty miles east of the town and that railway was also the main artery of communication between the patriots, so that was their target. They had waited until after nightfall so they could work in darkness, and now, Charlie and Monroe were on one side of the bridge, setting charges around one of the bridge's support columns.

As they worked together, Charlie couldn't help thinking about Nora, Nora who had taught her what little she knew about explosives and who had bled out in her arms at the tower. Nora would have known exactly what to do in this situation. She would have loved this, she thought sadly. She looked over at Monroe, remembering that Monroe had captured Nora and tortured her for information about the rebels and her stomach churned. How could that have been man she knew now?

"Charlie?" said Monroe. "You got something on your mind?"

"Just thinking how much Nora would have loved this," she said watching his face for any hint of reaction. A flash of pain washed across his face and he frowned.

"Yes," he said in a quiet voice. "She would have." Monroe cursed Charlie, knowing she had twisted that knife deliberately and she had been right to; Nora was yet another whose blood was on his hands. The guilt weighed heavy on him.

"I'm all set Bass" said Charlie, changing the subject, seeing his reaction and then feeling like a huge bitch for deliberately provoking it.

Miles had been on the other side of the bridge, working on the other support column. Monroe whistled across the bridge and signalled to Miles that they were ready. Charlie and Miles lay down, hidden in the shadows of the supports, while they waited for Miles to finish. Charlie's heart was loud in her ears, willing Miles to finish before they ran into a night patrol and she tried to keep her fears down to a bearable level. Finally, they heard a whistle from the other side of the river; the signal that Miles was done.

Monroe lit the fuses on their side, while Miles lit the fuses on the other side. Charlie and Monroe ran off the bridge and Charlie flung herself down in the grass by the side of the river and counted. Miles took off the opposite why, but they couldn't see him in the darkness. Suddenly, they saw the bridge supports bow out and warp, and then a cloud of smoke and dust roes a moment before the sound of the explosion rolled over them like a wave. Monroe put his arm around Charlie to cover her head as he ducked down beside her. When the roaring stopped, Monroe quickly let go of her, taken aback by the instinctive action to protect her. Charlie looked up from under Monroe's arm. She was delighted to see mangled track, splintered sidings and partially ruined supports.

"We did it Bass!" she said, sitting up, but her words trailed off when she saw lights flickering along the other side of the river. Torches. And they did not belong to Miles.

"It must be a patrol. We need to get out of here because it's only a matter of time before we run into trouble on this side of the river." said Monroe, getting up and trying to pull Charlie with him.

"But what about Miles?" Charlie said, trying to shake him off.

"What about him," Monroe said flatly.

"We can't just leave him there," Charlie said. "We have to go help him."

"Charlie, we can't. We're on the wrong side of the river. No bridge, remember? Besides, Miles has a horse, he has guns, and he can take care of himself." Monroe swung himself up onto the horse they had kept on their side of the river. He grabbed Charlie's arm and swung her up behind him, pulling her so hard, she felt like her shoulder was about to dislocate.

Charlie was still struggling against the grip on her arm and before she had a chance to settle, Monroe kicked his heels into the horse's flank and the horse took off. Charlie had to scrabble to catch hold of Monroe to stop herself from falling and she took a vicious pleasure in digging her nails hard into his torso to hold on, still angry with him for leaving Miles behind.

"Fuck, Charlie," he hissed at the sudden pain, and he slowed the horse down.

"Sorry," Charlie said sarcastically. "I was afraid I was going to fall."

"Do that again and I'll throw you off the horse and leave you behind too."

They rode on in angry silence. Charlie was sick with anxiety about Miles. She knew Monroe had been right about everything, but fuck, how could he be so cold about it? It was Miles, not some foot soldier with no name. He had to be safe. He had to be

Monroe rode through the night until they were well away from the explosion. Despite what he'd said to Charlie, he was worried about Miles too. He had hated leaving him behind just as much as Charlie, but there had been no choice, and sometimes you had to make a tactical retreat even if it made you feel like a monster again. He was relieved to feel that somewhere along the way, Charlie had stopped being angry and had leaned into his back, and was glad to feel her arms slide back around his waist.

Charlie found herself struggling to stay awake, lulled by the movement of the horse and Monroe had felt her hold on him slipping and he was worried that she would fall, so he decided to stop, thinking that they had probably gone far enough for it to be safe to stop.

"Charlie, how are you doing? Still awake?" he said, as he pulled up the horse.

"Hmm?" Charlie muttered sleepily.

"We are going to stop here."

~oOo~

Charlie walked through the woods, the smell of damp leaf mulch a familiar comfort, reminding her of long, fun days spent with Danny when they were kids. She carried a couple of rabbits that she'd shot and enjoyed the warm sheen of sweat that came with the exercise of hunting. She walked out of the forest and down towards the river.

Charlie walked along the riverbank to the old marina shed where she and Monroe had spent the night, but she stopped dead when she heard crying from inside. She crept slowly up to the door, and there was definitely crying. She pushed opened the door as quietly as she could, and found Monroe standing in front of a young man. The kid was on his knees, hands tied behind his back, tears pouring down his face, completely terrified, and to her horror, he reminded her of Danny, same age, build and colouring.

"Get out," Monroe spat at Charlie. He didn't want her to see this, afraid that she go right back to hating him.

"What are you doing?" she shrieked. "He's just a boy."

Monroe sighed. There was no point in pretending. He realized he didn't want to pretend with her and if she hated him, the she would hate him.

"Fine," he said. "Stay if you want." Monroe turned back to the boy. "Now, where were we Peter," he asked, voice dangerously honeyed. "I've asked you very nicely, I think, so it would only be polite to answer my questions".

"I don't know," he stammered out.

"I think you do," said Monroe.

"I was just on patrol and I got separated. I don't know where the rest of them are. I swear. We were to find out who blew up the bridge at Westbury."

"And you think I did it, just like everyone thinks I nuked Philadelphia?"

The boy bowed his head. "I don't know. You are supposed to be dead." he said, his voice wavering. Monroe took a step closer to the boy, menacing.

"I told you everything I know," the boy said, panic colouring his voice. "I'm a new recruit and they don't tell me much. Please, don't hurt me, I don't know anything."

"Thank you for your honesty. I appreciate it," Monroe said smiling. He put a hand gently on the boy's shoulder and looked sideways at Charlie.

"Bass, please don't," said Charlie, in a whisper. "He's just a kid."

But Monroe turned back to the boy and stabbed him, a near-instant kill through the ribs into his heart. His body slumped to the ground, blood pooling around him.

"Why did you do that?" screamed Charlie, rushing over to Monroe. "He wasn't responsible for any of this. He was just a kid. Bass, he could have been Danny." She pushed him hard but he didn't stumble and instead, he closed the distance between them, his face twisted into a snarl. Charlie backed away until she hit the wall of the shed.

"He was a fucking patriot Charlie, no matter how young he might have been. Do you really think he would have been able to keep his mouth shut? You think he wouldn't have gone back and spilt his guts? He knew who I was and he would have told them I was alive. So, how long do you think before they connected the dots to your mom?"

"So, that's it? The second things get tough, you immediately go back General Monroe mode, nothing but a ruthless killer with no shred of humanity? Just like you left Miles behind without a second thought."

"The patriots don't give a damn about that boy, and they would have slit his throat in a second if they thought he was no longer useful. Charlie, after everything you've been through, can you really be so fucking naïve?"

"You make me sick," she said, swinging her fist. She almost connected with Monroe's chin but he grabbed her arm to deflect it. She didn't fight his hold on her, but her eyes blazed with defiance, daring him to hit her back. Monroe's mind went blank and his only thought was that she looked so fucking beautiful that before he could stop himself, he reached out his free hand and traced her collarbone with his fingertip. He felt Charlie's breath catch and he watched the fight drain from her eyes. She looked down at his fingers trailing her skin.

He was still holding her right arm and he pulled her hand towards his mouth and bent his head to kiss the inside of her wrist, but instead of touching soft smooth skin, his lips touched the scar tissue of the her brand. He had known she had it, but in that moment, like ice water, it stopped him dead.

Charlie felt his hesitation and she saw it on his face and fury slammed into her.

"You have got to be kidding me", she yelled. "You are such a fucking coward Bass. You're fine with murdering a child because he might be a liability; you abandon your best friend without a backward glance, you were happy for your thugs to murder most of my family and god knows how many other people's families, you used your ex girlfriend as a bargaining chip, and you kept my mother hostage. And apparently you're fine that you had your militia abduct god knows how many innocent kids and held them down and branded them, like cattle, just like they did to me," she said, waving her wrist in his face. "But admitting that you want to fuck me - that's where you draw the line? Really? You are just unbelievable. What is it? Are you worried what Miles might think if he found out? Well, for all you care, he could be already dead, so what does it matter?"

Monroe burned under the accusations, cold shame writhing. She was right about all of it and he could only wither under the onslaught, but she wasn't done.

"Or is it my mom?" she screamed. "Worried that she might finish what she started if she found out?"

He felt her words like she'd hit him with her fists and Charlie saw his reaction, it was just a flicker, but it was enough. All the furious glares between her mom and Bass, her mom flipping out about the way she looked at Bass. It all made horrible sense.

"Oh my God, that's it isn't it? You made a deal with her about me." Monroe dropped his eyes in complete defeat. "Do you even realise that she that ratted you out to the patriots in the first place," she shouted. "She told them where you were and she probably planned the whole thing. And you were too stoned to know you'd been played. God, I hate you both."

She stormed out of the shed and Monroe watched her go, roaring in frustration and regret, slamming his fist against the wall.

He heard a muffled scream. Charlie. He ran to the door, grabbing his rifle. He opened the door a crack and peered out. There were four men out there by the riverbank. They were dressed in patriot uniforms and one of them one was holding Charlie, twisting her arm cruelly up her back. When he saw the pain masking her face, Monroe's vision turned red. He wanted to destroy them, obliterate them all from the face of the earth. He lifted the rifle and started shooting. Charlie took advantage of the confusion to struggle out of from her captor's arms and she flung herself away, trying to get out of the crossfire. One by one, Monroe shot three of them, with icy control and robotic precision. Charlie had almost managed to get out of reach, when her captor grabbed her ankle and she hit the ground hard, and then he dragged her back towards him, her skin scraping across the hard ground. He pulled her roughly to her feet and seized her by the throat and then she felt cold metal against her temple.

"Come out you fucker, or I'll kill the bitch", he yelled at Monroe, and then hissed in Charlie's ear "I hope he's a dumb fucker, because I would really enjoy putting a bullet in your pretty little brain." Monroe stepped out from behind the door, rifle raised. Charlie saw the look on his face, the vicious joy that made his face glow with malice and blood lust and she knew that she would be safe. Monroe advanced with the rifle. The man took a couple of steps backwards, jamming the gun harder into Charlie's temple.

"Drop the gun," he yelled, "Last warning."

"Not going to happen. You just let her go, and maybe you'll live to see another day," said Monroe, amusement in his voice, he said advancing another step.

The man took another step backwards towards the river, dragging Charlie back with him. She nodded at Monroe, a tiny gesture, but one he didn't miss. As she flung her head to the side, away from the man's body, Monroe fired; a clean shot to his head. But as soon as he fired, Monroe realized he'd miscalculated; he hadn't realized quite how close to the river they were standing and the weight of the man falling backwards, his arm still locked around Charlie's neck, took her with him right over the edge and into the water.

"Charlie," he bellowed, as he watched her disappear into the river. He saw her struggling to get untangled from the body, and was relieved when she pulled herself free, but the relief died in his chest as he realized with horror that she couldn't swim and he saw her being pulled down the river, struggling to keep her head above water. Without a conscious thought, he tore off his shirt and trousers and dived in after her. He swam as fast as he could, but she was already lost under the water by the time he got to her. For a moment, he couldn't see her and the panic started to rise in his chest. Then he caught a glimpse of something pale among the weeds and dived down, holding his breath as long as could. The water was churning so the visibility was terrible. He flailed his arms around in desperation, until, with a stab of joy, he grabbed onto something soft. He pulled Charlie up with him, taking in huge gulps of air as his head broke the surface. He swam for the riverbank, knowing that she was already unconscious and fear curdled in his lungs.

With dark spots at the edge of his vision, and his muscles burning with the effort of swimming so hard, he got her to the edge of the river. He hauled her out onto the grass and his heart sank when he saw her face was blue and her eyes were closed and still. "Charlie, no, no no", he moaned. Not Charlie as well, he couldn't stand it. She wasn't breathing and he couldn't find a pulse. He couldn't let her die. Trying to ignore the rising anguish, he laid his hands on her ribs and started chest compressions; still nothing. He bent close, pinched her nose and sealed his mouth over hers. "Stay with me Charlie," he whispered as he watched her chest rise and wall with his breath.

He could feel everything coming apart. He'd spent so long hardening his heart, building defences to protect himself. Since Miles left him, his heart had been stone. Nobody had ever got close; he didn't allow anyone to get close. His men had feared him and none were friends. Sex was nothing more than a release, never the same woman twice and never bothering to find out their names. He told himself it was the way to keep himself sane, but he had been fooling himself; his sanity had been a mirage. After the bombs, he had lost himself in New Vegas, knowing how close he had been to oblivion, every day willing someone to hit him hard enough to end it all. And then she had appeared in the swimming pool, like a tiny light in the dark and against every instinct to protect himself, he'd let her in, let her get close, and now she was going to die. He brought his lips to hers again, breathing for her, filling her lungs with his pain and finally, with relief flooding into every pore, she convulsed, choking out the water in her lungs. She was still unconscious, but breathing. She was breathing. She was alive.

He gathered her into his arms. Even though the day was not cold, she had begun shivering violently. He carried her back to the shed and once inside, he stripped off her wet clothes. He wrapped a blanket around them both and settled back with her lying against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. Her body felt so small and fragile, but he felt her breath warm and regular against his neck. Despite the danger of them being found, especially with the bodies still lying outside, Monroe felt himself being pulled into sleep. He struggled to keep himself awake, tried to fight it, but drifted away again.

~oOo~

Monroe woke up to feel cold steel digging into the soft skin underneath his chin. All senses on full alert, he opened his eyes slowly.

"What in the name of holy fuck is all this?" said Miles, his sword pressed into Monroe's throat and a fierce glare on his face.

Monroe looked down at Charlie, curled on his lap still. "Miles, chill your fucking jets," said Monroe. "It's not what you think."

"Start talking Bass", Miles said, jamming the point of the sword in a little harder. "Or the steel will talk for you."

"She fell in the river and almost drowned. It turns out, she can't swim." As he spoke, Charlie stirred a little and the blanket slipped from her shoulders, revealing Charlie's brown skin moulded against Monroe's naked chest.

Miles groaned, shaking his head. "You have got to be fucking kidding me Bass."

"She wasn't breathing Miles, and she was cold, wet, shivering and unconscious. I needed to get her warm and dry as fast as possible, fucking SOP. I would have done the same if it had been you." He pulled the blanket back up around Charlie's shoulders, covering them both.

"Maybe so, but I don't think you would have spent the rest of the afternoon cuddling with me curled up in your lap.

"Miles, you're jealous! That's so fucking cute," Bass said, his voice like ice.

"Fuck off Bass," Miles said rolling his eyes. "She's my niece and seeing you both practically naked together… Miles shook himself, dog-like dropping his sword. "Bass, that's just something I can't unsee."

"Miles," Monroe said, his voice thawed. "Nothing happened, okay?" He waited for Miles to react, but Miles stayed silent. "Now", Monroe continued. "Are you going to tell me what you've been doing the last few days?"

Charlie heard voices from far away. It was Miles and Bass, and so she felt safe and warm. She nestled closer into the warm arms around her. She smelled a familiar, warm woodsy smell, mixed with sweat and as she shifted, she felt a hand run gently up and down her spine. Monroe's hand, leaving a trail of delicious shivers as it went. Her eyes flew open and she saw Monroe's face, inches away from hers.

"How are you feeling, Charlie?" said Miles, acid in his voice. Monroe hadn't noticed that he had started stroking Charlie's back and stilled his hand abruptly. Charlie turned her head and saw Miles looking at her, his expression disapproving.

"Miles, you're back," she said. "Are you okay?"

"Yes I am, Not sure about you though", Miles said, pointedly.

"I was in the water" she said, vague memories suddenly surging, a rush of panic and fear. "I couldn't breathe." Charlie looked up at Monroe and started to sit up before she realized that she was naked and lay down again, feeling a blush spread across her cheeks. "What happened?" she asked.

"Yes, interesting question," said Miles. Monroe glared at him.

"How are you feeling Charlie?" said Monroe. "You might be a bit bruised. I had to give you CPR after I pulled you out of the river. You've been unconscious for a couple of hours."

"You saved me again?" said Charlie. "It's becoming a habit Bass." The images, still swirling in her mind, were fuzzy, but then in stark clarity, with a jolt, she remembered the fight. She looked up at Monroe. He saw the stricken look on her face, and he shook his head, so small she didn't know if she'd really seen it, but she didn't say anything else.

"So," said Miles. "Now that we're established everyone is peachy, Bass is going to put you down so you can both get some clothes on. Okay? Please tell me that you are both going to put on some goddamn clothes."

Monroe eased himself out from under Charlie, leaving her safe under the blanket. He was wearing only underpants and those left not much to the imagination. Charlie blushed again and ducked her head. Monroe left the shed to get his clothes that were still on the riverbank.

Miles picked up Charlie's clothes and threw them at her. "I think these are dry now," he said, the disapproving look still on his face. "So can you please get dressed?"

"Miles, what's with the look?"

"There's no look," he said.

"Yes, there's a look and you can just knock it off. And for your information, first of all, I'm an adult, so you don't get a say in what I do with my personal life. Second of all, whatever I get up to with Bass is for me to decide. And third of all, like he already said, nothing happened, so I don't know why you're being such a drama queen about this."

She turned her back to Miles and put her clothes on as quickly as she could. When she was dressed, she turned back to him and he sighed, like he was in physical pain. "Charlie, just tell me you haven't already fallen for the Monroe bullshit. You know he'll break your heart."

Charlie looked at Miles with a disbelieving expression. "Miles, seriously, pot meet kettle."

"Well, maybe so, but I was hoping that there would be a least one Matheson that would be fucking immune."

"I did try to kill him first," said Charlie.

"Yeah, so did I," said Miles. "More than once. It didn't do any good."

Charlie closed the space between them and put her arms around him. "Miles, I'm glad you're okay. I was so worried about you. I hated that we had to leave you."

Miles hesitated a second and then wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight against him. "I'm fine, Charlie. You don't need to worry about me."

Monroe was prowling outside the shed and he wondered if they thought that he wouldn't be able to hear them. Despite the supremely fucked up situation, hearing them squabble about him lifted his spirits. He loved hearing her talking to Miles like that, just like he used to, like he'd started to do again. Charlie wasn't afraid of anything and he'd already known that. But it was more than that. Even though she'd believed she'd lost all her family, just like he had, instead of sitting in a graveyard with a gun to her head, feeling sorry for herself, she'd taken herself off to Chicago and single-handedly dragged Miles out of his slow suicide by whiskey. She'd watched her whole world fall apart and then she'd come for Monroe and dragged him out of his own slow suicide in New Vegas. Despite how young she was and how green she was, she was stronger than the both of them and however much they might think of themselves as tough, battle-hardened soldiers, she owned both their asses, no matter how much they might try to deny it.


End file.
